Poor Johnson, frenzied with grief, sought his lost love all over
the world. But he never found her, and, after years of fruitless
effort, he returned to end his lonely life in the very house where,
in the happy bygone days, he and his beloved Emily had passed so
many blissful hours.
He had lived there quite alone, wandering about the empty rooms,
weeping and calling to his Emily to come back to him; and when the
poor old fellow died, his ghost still kept the business on.
It was there, the Pater said, when he took the house, and the agent
had knocked ten pounds a year off the rent in consequence.
After that, I was continually meeting Johnson about the place at
all times of the night, and so, indeed, were we all. We used to
walk round it and stand aside to let it pass, at first; but, when
we grew at home with it, and there seemed no necessity for so much
ceremony, we used to walk straight through it. You could not say
it was ever much in the way.
It was a gentle, harmless, old ghost, too, and we all felt very
sorry for it, and pitied it. The women folk, indeed, made quite a
pet of it, for a while. Its faithfulness touched them so.
But as time went on, it grew to be a bit a bore. You see it was
full of sadness.
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